


A Magic Spell

by 221B_JohnLocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bedsharing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_JohnLocked/pseuds/221B_JohnLocked
Summary: Ever since Sherlock was little he had never believed in magic. When all the kids would get excited about the idea, Sherlock would scoff and inform the children that magic didn't exist. Not much has changed since then. But John on the other hand was quite the opposite. He had always believed in magic and even got into fights with the other kids who told him it wasn't real. As he got older he grew out of most of it, but a small part of him still believed. After all, magic is a good a thing to believe in as anything else, right?Sherlock didn't think so.





	A Magic Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this happens after season 4! Please also note that this is not totally canon because John does not have Rosie in this story. Please enjoy this! I would love it if you guys commented what you thought about it!

May's Theme: Bed Sharing

Prompt chosen: A spell goes wrong and now John can only be a few feet away from Sherlock, which forces them to sleep in the same bed.

~

Ever since Sherlock was little he had never believed in magic. When all the kids would get excited about the idea, Sherlock would scoff and inform the children that magic didn't exist. Not much has changed since then. But John on the other hand was quite the opposite. He had always believed in magic and even got into fights with the other kids who told him it wasn't real. As he got older he grew out of most of it, but a small part of him still believed. After all, magic is a good a thing to believe in as anything else, right?

Sherlock didn't think so. 

"John you must be joking." Sherlock said in disbelief.

"I'm not." he replied.

Sherlock just started at him for a few more seconds before deciding to speak again.

"Magic isn't real. It goes against all laws of nature!" he exclaimed.

"Yes I know that. But that's what makes it so exciting!" John shot back.

"I can not believe that you, a grown man, still believe in magic." Sherlock muttered.

John simply huffed and crossed his arms before an idea came to him. He put a smug smile on and, in the heat of the moment, decided to go with it.

"What if I could prove it was real?" John inquired.

"You want to prove to me that magic is real." Sherlock repeated with a laugh.

"Yes," John said defiantly, "And if I can then.....then...."

He took a moment to think about how he wanted to end that sentence before continuing.

"Then you have to stop putting body parts in the fridge and leaving your experiments on the counter." he proposed.

Sherlock seemed to think for a few moments with his hands steepled under his chin.

"Interesting. And if you lose?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"If I lose then I'll let you use me as a subject in one of your experiments." John decided.

This time there was no pause in his answer.

"Deal." Sherlock agreed with a smug smile on his face.

"Alright then." John said back, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

•••

It had taken him 3 days to find a place, but he had gotten one and he was actually starting to think he wouldn't lose this bet. It was a house in London's suburbs that was rumored to have a witch living there. Many people had gone there and returned with various crazy stories about the things the witch could do and now Sherlock and John were riding in a cab to that very house. John was fidgeting with the seam of his jeans and Sherlock was silently looking out the window. When they finally pulled up, they saw an average sized cottage that had various flowers and plants in the front garden and smoke coming out of the chimney. 

"We're here." John said to Sherlock.

"This is gonna be fun." Sherlock said smugly as he exited the cabby and walked to the door while John payed.

Sherlock was already knocking on the door by the time John was walking up and the cab was driving off. It was opened by a teenage girl on the phone with someone, gossiping and laughing with them. She had short, wavy, brunette hair that went to her shoulders, tan skin that was sprinkled with freckles all over, and she was about John's height. She must have been quite used to having random people come to the house because she only opened the door wider and motioned for them to enter. They stationed themselves on the couch as the girl wrapped up her conversation and turned to them. 

"How may I help you?" she asked politely.

"Yes, well you see um....we heard there was a-a wit-" John had started.

"What my friend here is trying to say is we want to see this witch imposter." Sherlock finished rudely.

The girl only smirked in response and looked at John. 

"He's a handful isn't he." she said with an air of superiority.

Before John could answer however, Sherlock huffed out a breath in annoyance and shifted so he was leaning forwards with his arms on his legs.

"Now as I said before, we'd like to see this so called "witch" that everyone is talking about." Sherlock said, making sure to add air quotes around the word witch.

Again, the girl smirked. She walked right up to Sherlock and seemed to be observing him. He seemed rather uncomfortable in the reversed position so he did something that he was used to: he tried to deduce her. They were staring at each other for a solid minute before the girl turned and sat down on the chair opposite them. 

"You two are very interesting." the girl commented lazily.

Sherlock was about to reply before John cut him off.

"Maybe we could introduce ourselves?" he asked.

The girl rolled her eyes but held out her hand with a strained grin.

"My name is Taylor. Oh, and don't bother introducing yourselves. I already know who you are. Didn't think you'd be into these kinds of things though." she commented.

"I'm not. Unfortunately for me though, John is." Sherlock sighed exasperatedly.

"You see we made a bet. And-" John had began to explain before the girl, Taylor, waved her hand to dismiss him.

"I already know about your bet." she revealed.

This made John and Sherlock stop. Maybe this girl really was a witch?

"Are you a proper genius too? Because I hope you know that doesn't make you a witch." Sherlock told the girl.

"I'm not a proper genius," she said with an eye roll, "I'm much better than that." 

This elicited a laugh out of Sherlock. It was a low baritone chuckle that lasted for only a few seconds before his face hardened.

"You have Nymphaea flowers in your garden out front yes?" Sherlock implored.

"Yes." was all she said.

"And they're real? Not fake ones?" he continued his interrogation.

John was about to interrupt and ask what I'm the world this had to do with their bet when he walked right up to Taylor, towering over her by a few inches, and smiled.

"Wrong. They can't be Nymphaea flowers because those can only grow in water and there was no ponds there." Sherlock explained. 

Instead of backing down though, Taylor only walked around him and grabbed a pot that had soil in it. With one snap of her fingers a small plant began to grow out of it: a Nymphaea flower. John's jaw dropped to the floor and Sherlock seemed a bit frazzled before taking the plant from her and examining it. 

"I can assure you that this is not a trick. That is in fact a real flower," she proclaimed before adding with a hint of mischief in her eyes, "And now it's my turn for interrogations."

Sherlock was still examining the plant and the pot as she turned to John.

"How is you and Sherlock's relationship?" she inquired.

"Ummm..... our uhh...our relationship? We aren't..... dating. Or anything. J-just good friends." was his mumbled reply.

She hummed in reply before snapping her fingers and the flower disappeared out of the pot. At this, Sherlock gaped his mouth a few times before digging his hand around in the pot and making a mess of the desk.

"Now," the girl started, "You news me to prove that magic is real. But it might take more for Sherlock to believe in this than making a flower appear and disappear."

"You would be right about that." Sherlock interjected, hand now covered in dirt along with the table. 

"Good. Now in order for this to work I'm going to need you both to say that you approve of what I'm doing. It won't work otherwise." Taylor explained.

"I approve." 

"I approve." 

Taylor smiled and snapped her fingers. Nothing had changed so Sherlock put a smug grin on and turned to John.

"I told you she was a fake. It was nice to meet you Taylor but I think I'll be going now." he said sarcastically before walking towards the door and leaving to hail a cab.

John was a little disappointed. He had really believed in Taylor, but it seemed that Sherlock was right. He got up to leave, a weight in his chest, when Taylor walked up to him.

"I know you don't think it worked yet, but I promise you that it will. Big spells like that take time to work. Give it a few hours or so." she smiled.

"Ok." he replied.

But he didn't believe her.

•••

John was now laying in bed and mentally preparing for tomorrow. Sherlock never explained what his experiment was, but knowing him, it was bound to be crazy. It was going to be a hell of a ride, but he had lost the bet fair and square and now he had to pay the price. 

"Why did I think that was a good idea in the first place?" he muttered to himself.

Now, not only had he made a fool of himself, but he was roped into Sherlock's experiment. Despite all this though, he couldn't help but hope that Taylor's spell could still work. And it was this small glimmer of hope that he held onto as he drifted off to sleep.

•••

It was the crack of dawn when John rolled over and his foot grazed something. Panic stricken, he shot up and looked next to him. There was Sherlock, fast asleep beside him on his side, facing away from him.

"Sherlock?" John asked groggily.

When that didn't work he decided to try shaking him. He very cautiously layed his hand on the mans shoulder and gently shook him. His eyes opened and he turned to John with a look of confusion on his face.

"John? Why are you here?" he asked.

"Sherlock this is my room." John sighed.

He looked around the room before looking back at John.

"I must have sleep walked. My apologies." he mumbled tiredly. 

He got out of bed and began walking to the door, his John was about ready to lay back down and go to sleep when Sherlock was suddenly dragged across the floor to the bed. His legs hit the side and he collapsed backwards into the sheets. 

"What the hell was that?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I have no idea." John answered truthfully.

"I'm going to leave now." Sherlock told John.

He got back up again and walked away very confidently, only to have the same thing happen again. 

"Let me try." John said.

He got up and very cautiously and slowly made his way across the room. But as soon as he got more than a few feet away from Sherlock and the bed, he was dragged right back. 

"I think we need to go pay Taylor a visit." Sherlock decided angrily.

•••

It took 3 very awkward hours of getting ready and another hour of riding in a cab before they were knocking on the door of Taylor's house. 

"Taylor! I know you're in there!" Sherlock yelled.

"Sherlock be nice." John scolded.

A few seconds later the door opened and Taylor was there. She had her hair wet and in curlers and she looked very tired. 

"Oh hey. Come in." she said, stifling a yawn.

Once they entered, Sherlock whipped around and began his tantrum.

"What in gods name did you do to us? We can't be more than a few feet away from eachother anymore! I woke up in his BED for Christ sake! I take it back! Magic is real! Just make this stupid thing go away!" he demanded.

"Look," she started tiredly, "I can't make it go away. Only you can do that."

She leaned against the counter and Sherlock walked closer to her. The anger that was portrayed on his face did nothing to hinder his attractiveness. He still looked gorgeous when he was mad.

"What do you mean 'only you can do that'! Just take the spell back!" he yelled.

"I just can't......do it. It's...." she sighed and tried to walk closer to Sherlock, but her legs almost gave way and she had to lean on the counter again.

Taylor looked pale and her movements seemed slower and less coordinated than yesterday. Her attitude had changed too and John's doctor instincts were kicking in. 

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

"Oh ummm yea. I'm fine." she mumbled. 

"You don't look fine." John insisted.

"Why does it matter if she's sick or not John! All that matters is that we get rid of the spell!" Sherlock argued.

"Shut up Sherlock!" John warned him with an icy glare.

This seemed to do the trick because he snapped his mouth shut and stopped talking, although he did have his signature scowl on. John then gave his full attention to Taylor.

"Taylor, I need you to answer all my questions honestly or I'm not going to be able to help you." John said softly.

"O-ok. Fine." Taylor agreed.

"This is ridiculous." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"Do you know what's going on with you?" John inquired.

Taylor nodded her head.

"Would you mind telling me?" John asked nicely.

"Ok. Witches and wizards, while being extremely powerful, can only extend themselves so far. Small spells don't take that much effort which means we can do more of them. But the more powerful spells are a different story. They are extreme draining and can cause the witch or wizard who performed said spell to get extremely sick afterwards." Taylor explained.

"So that spell you preformed yesterday...." John trailed off, regret starting to grow slowly inside him.

"Yes. That spell-" 

Taylor stopped talking and clamped a hand over her mouth before running off towards the kitchen. John followed her and Sherlock was dragged unceremoniously behind him before he stood up a followed on his own. John stood next to Taylor and rubbed her back soothingly as she threw up into the sink. Sherlock was standing next to John, but since he was still in a sour mood, he did nothing to help. After a few more minutes, she wiped her mouth with a towel and stood back up to her full height.

"Better?" John asked cautiously.

"A little." she replied.

"Ok. You can finish explaining when you feel ready." John stated.

They made their way back to the living room and John and Sherlock sat next to each other on the couch while Taylor took the chair. John was surprised at how patient Sherlock was being while Taylor recovered. Usually by now he would have screamed his head off and thrown a massive tantrum, but now he was only sitting there with his arms crossed. He wasn't sure what to think about it, but he didn't get much chance to think at all as Taylor finally began explaining again.

"So as I had explained earlier, small spells are easy and can be preformed multiple times with little to no consequences while big spells make you sick afterwards," she began, "This means that I'm going to be sick for the next few days until I can fully recover. I won't be able to remove the spell until then either. So until then you have two options. You can wait for me to fix it or you can break it yourselves."

"What do you mean 'break it ourselves'. We aren't wizards!" Sherlock exclaimed angrily.

"Sherlock." John warned him.

Taylor smiled a little at this and she seemed to be recovering some of her pompous attitude and her confidence.

"The spell that I put on you is one that has only been used a total of 7 times in human history. It's a binding spell. What this spell does is it binds two people together so they can only be a few feet apart from each other until they resolve the tension or conflict that they have between each other." Taylor informed them.

John and Sherlock shared a confused look before looking back at Taylor.

"We don't have any tension or conflict anymore." John said.

Taylor laughed a bit which caused Sherlock to furrow his brows together and scowl. 

"The spell wouldn't work if you didn't. And seeing as you two can't leave the others side, I'd say that you do." she remarked. 

"But......we don't.......there's no way...." John tried to argue.

"I risked my life to place this spell on you two. I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't absolutely sure there was something that needed to be fixed or feelings that went unsaid." Taylor insisted.

"Wait. What? You risked your life to perform that spell? Does that mean-" John's started before Taylor cut him off.

"Yes. By performing the spell I risked my life. I could get so sick that I die and it is a very real possibility. Which is why you need to understand how to break it if you end up having to fix it yourself." Taylor said.

John was a soldier. He had been through war and seen people die all around him. He was also a doctor. He had seen plenty of people who were sick and dying. But as soon as the word die left Taylor's mouth, he fainted. The information was just too much for him to handle all at once.

"Well then." Sherlock sighed in annoyance.

"Looks like you should be going now." Taylor suggested.

"Yes. It seems so." Sherlock agreed.

He stood up and stood there for a few awkward seconds before realizing that the only way to get him to the cab would be to carry him. He bent down and very cautiously picked him up. He then began walking to the door.

"Oh Sherlock." Taylor called right before they exited.

"What." Sherlock grunted while looking over his shoulder.

"I see the way you look at him when you think nobody is watching. And I see the way you care about him in your actions. You should tell him. It might not be one sided." Taylor suggested.

"I don't know what you're talking about." was all Sherlock said before walking to the cab and getting inside.

The whole way back to 221B, Sherlock sat and looked at John. A million questions where swarming in his head but he biggest one of all was the one that had been plaguing him for years. Would John ever like him back?

•••

John and Sherlock had been learning how to do things better and better without getting in each other's way. Even though they were only a few feet away from each other, they somehow found a way to maximize the amount of space between them. 

There was however one thing they had yet to figure out. It was the one thing that they had been avoiding talking about for fear of making things awkward. That thing was how they we're going to sleep. But no matter how much they tried to avoid it, it was going to have to be figured out eventually. Sherlock, who was currently trying to examine a bacteria under his microscope, finally decided that it was time to stop skirting around the problem and face it head on.

"John." Sherlock said from his chair in the kitchen across the table from John.

"Yes Sherlock?" John replied, putting his newspaper down to look at him.

"I know we've been avoiding talking about it, but we need to figure it out soon. It's getting late and I can tell you're tired so I'm just going to ask. How are we going to go to sleep?" Sherlock asked bluntly.

"Oh." John said, his voice faltering a bit.

There were a few moments of awkward silence between them. John was avoiding eye contact and his heart was hammering inside his chest. Sherlock, although looking right at John, was just as nervous as John.

"Well I think that the most logical solution to that would be that we ummmm...... well I think it would be easier if we just share....the bed." John said, the end barely coming out as a whisper.

John's face was colored a bright red from the blush and it was currently making its way into his ears and neck. Sherlock was blushing as well and now they were both avoiding eye contact. 

"Ok. I think it would be easier to share mine so we don't have to walk up and down the stairs all the time." Sherlock suggested cautiously. 

He knew they could very easily go one in front of the other, but Sherlock wanted him in his bed if only just once. John's breath hitched for a split second at the suggestion before resuming its normal pace. Sherlock noticed this thought and quickly tried to back peddle.

"I mean we don't have to. In fact we probably shouldn't do that if you're uncomfortable with it. I don't know what I was think-" he rushed out before John stopped him.

"Sherlock, it's fine. We'll just share your bed. Now can you come up stairs with me so I can bring some of my clothes down and we can sleep. You were right. I am quite tired." John chuckled.

"If I must." Sherlock sighed with fake annoyance.

And so Sherlock trailed after him, both men fighting the smile that threatened to take over their faces. 

•••

John had gone as slow as possible getting ready. He knew that Sherlock was restless beside him, but he couldn't help it. His nerves were through the roof and his heart was racing a mile a minute. He finally, to Sherlock's pleasure, ran out of things to do and they finally made their way to his room. Sherlock got into bed just as usual and John followed promptly. Now they were both lying there in silence with their thoughts swarming around their heads.

"Hey Sherlock?" John asked to see if he was awake.

"Yes John?" he answered right away.

"We don't have any.....you don't think we actually have any tension between us....do you?" John inquired nervously.

There were a few more moments of silence that made John worried that he had done something wrong.

"No. Do you?" Sherlock asked.

"No." he said instantly.

No more was said for the next few moments. It wasn't an awkward silence, but one that hung with the knowledge that they both wanted to say more. But it seemed that these things would just have to be said later, because a blissful sleep had overtaken them both. 

•••

Morning had been quite awkward. They had woken up quite comfortably up until they realized what position they were in. Sherlock was laying on his back with his arm wrapped around John and John was laying on his stomach hugging Sherlock's waist. Yes, morning had been quite awkward. They decided to blame it on the spell making them be close to each other. They had only just jumped away from each other when Sherlock got a phone call. 

"Hello?" he said into the phone.

John heard a muffled voice on the other end and by the sparkle in Sherlock's eyes it was Lestrade with a case. So now they were in a cab on the way to the crime scene. They'd have to be as far apart as they could manage to not rise suspicion, but close enough they wouldn't go flying towards each other. It would be hard but they would figure it out.

•••

Sherlock's bed was much more comfortable tonight than any other night. They had chased a murderer half way across London and had been flung towards each other so many times that they were bruised all over. On any other night they would have had Chinese takeout and then went their separate ways but tonight they went straight to bed as soon as they returned home. It seemed they spell was taking a toll on them at last. They slept peacefully that night, the sounds of London lulling them to sleep. 

•••

Sherlock never dreams. He has only dreamed twice. Once after he first met John and the other the night he faked his death. But this one would make three. He was all alone in the dark and there was nothing around him. Suddenly out of nowhere all these people popped up in a circle around him. Among the crowd there were a few he recognized. There was Sally Donovan, Anderson, and there was the reporter that had followed him into the bathroom. They all started calling him names and screaming horrible things at him. It was all too much and he began hyperventilating. He clamped his eyes shut and covered his ears with his hands, a soft whimper escaping his lips. And all of a sudden the voices stopped. After a few moments he opened his eyes to see John standing in front of him with his hand held out to him. He had an aura of white light emanating out from around him that made the dark not seem so scary anymore. 

"Hi Sherlock." Dream John said.

Sherlock simply stared at him before something dawned on him. His words from long ago echoed in his head.

"You've never been the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light, you are unbeatable."

He had said that when he was apologizing to John in the heat of the moment and, although he meant every word, it was still quite embarrassing. He loved John and in his crazy world, John was the only constant thing he had. He was the thing that kept him grounded and the one who led the way. He was everything to Sherlock.

"You're my conductor of light." Sherlock said aloud.

"Yes I suppose I am." Dream John replied with a chuckle.

They laughed together for a few moments before Sherlock realized that Dream John was still holding his hand out to him. He must have realized Sherlock was looking at it because he smiled a little.

"Take my hand Sherlock. We can run far away from here and finally be happy." Dream John pleaded.

Sherlock didn't hesitate. Dream John was the only John that would love him back, and so he took his chance here. He reached his hand up and as soon as his bigger hand made contact with the smaller one, a burst of white light engulfed them. It was warm and made his body tingle all over. And it was perfect.

•••

John woke up in the middle of the night to a soft whimpering noise. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Sherlock. He was holding the covers with a death grip and his face was scrunched up painfully. He kept making the noises for a few more seconds and John wondered what he should do.

He finally decided to try and comfort his best friend and pulled him into a hug. It was something they had only done once when John was crying over Mary and not being able to clear things up with her, and it was something that Sherlock would never have let him do if he had been awake, but as soon as he embraced him the whimpering stopped. 

Sherlock nuzzled his face into John's chest and the feeling of his skin against his shirt was calming. Afraid to pull away, John simply decided to appreciate the moment before it was over. 

He looked down at his flatmates curly head of hair that shone in the moonlight that was streaming in from the window. He listened to Sherlock's steady breath and felt it faintly on his skin through the shirt he was wearing. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over the pale arm that was wrapping its way around his waist and felt the smooth skin. 

John waned to remember this moment for a long time. He knew he liked Sherlock. He had denied it multiple times over the years, but it was just a fact. John was hopelessly in love with his flatmate and his best friend. But those feelings would never be returned. 

•••

They woke up much like the morning before: in each other's arms. But somehow it was less awkward this time. This time they stayed there for a few moments, faking sleep so that they didn't have to move yet, and waited for the other person to wake up. If it wasn't for Mrs. Hudson yelling that they had a client, they probably would have stayed like that for hours.

•••

"You're bloody brilliant you know that?" John said in awe.

Sherlock smiled a little and allowed the faint blush to grace his cheeks. They had just gotten back from solving another case and were watching crap telly on the couch before going to bed.

"I know." he said in reply.

"I mean I would never have guessed that the sister was the one who kidnapped the husband." John continued.

"It was obvious! She had no alibi and she had dirt on her shoes that was from the area around his work. She also had scratches on her hand and arm that the husband must have given her when he was struggling against her as she made him pass out. Easy." he explained with ease.

John let out a soft laugh and shook his head. When would Sherlock realize how amazing he was and stop downplaying his genius?

"I'm quite tired. If you don't mind..." John trailed off and looked towards the hall that lead to Sherlock's room. 

"Right." Sherlock said.

They walked down the hall together side by side. By now they were used to the closeness of it all. When their hands would brush accidentally or they would bump shoulders, it was no longer weird. Maybe this spell wasn't such a bad thing?

•••

John didn't know that Sherlock talked in his sleep. He must have been so tired the first two nights that he hadn't realized, but tonight he heard it. It was soft and could only be heard if he really concentrated, but it was there. It was mostly just random facts or an explanation to a case they had solved, but occasionally it would be something more personal. The personal ones were John's favorites. Sometimes he would whisper something back, even if Sherlock couldn't hear.

"When I was little I used to love playing hide and go seek." Sherlock mumbled.

John chuckled at that. Sherlock was always good at hiding when on cases and that must be why. He'd have to suggest they play it when Sherlock got bored later. 

"When I was little I would play house with my sister and her friends because I thought her one friend Clara was cute." John whispered back.

This went on for a few more hours before John got tired and decided to go to sleep. He was laying quietly for a few moments, listening to Sherlock babble on, when he heard something that made his heart stop and shatter into a million pieces.

"I love you." 

It was just as quiet as the other things that Sherlock had said, but this one had a certain vulnerability to it that made it seems even quieter. John turned his head to Sherlock and smiled sadly. He was probably thinking about Irene or Molly, but he could at least pretend he meant to say it to John.

"I love you too." 

And with that, he turned on his side and let the silent tears trickle down his face and onto his pillow. He had finally found the one thing that made him happy, and he could never have it.

•••

Sherlock woke up, but today John was curled up into a ball as far away from him as the spell would allow. Sherlock missed the warmth of waking up with John next to him. He lay there for a few minutes and waited for John to wake up. When he finally did, they began heading to the bathroom. As they were walking though, Sherlock was it. On John's pillow was little tear stains that were made approximately 3 hours ago. He halted his walking and John, who was still heading out of the room, was flung back wards into Sherlock. Since Sherlock was too busy staring at John's pillow, the impact knocked him off balance and the two of them went tumbling to the ground. 

John was on top of Sherlock, who was on the ground, propping himself up on his elbows. When they made eye contact, they were sucked into each other. Neither one made any move to look away for get up and so they just stayed there. 

Sherlock thought John's eyes were much prettier than his. John's eyes, much like John's role in Sherlock's life, were constant. They were always the same warm chocolate color that looked at him with such adoration and, if Sherlock pretended hard enough, love. 

John thought that Sherlock's eyes were the prettiest he'd ever seen. Sherlock's eyes were never the same color, but each new color was more vibrant and exciting than the last. Sherlock's eyes represented him. They were both ever changing and exciting and new and yet they were always the same somehow. 

In that moment they finally understood that it really was all in the eyes. And when they looked back at each other, neither could hold it in any longer. Sherlock brought him up to a sitting position and crashed his lips into John's. He expected him to pull back but instead he returned the gesture and kissed back. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck. And they kissed like there was no tomorrow.

This kiss released the tension that had been rising between them from the first day they met. And it also released the spell. 

"Oh Sherlock. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this." John giggled in between kisses.

"Me too." Sherlock murmured against John's lips.

Oh how they tasted just like he imagined. Like the sweetest honey, the warmest tea, and the freshest mint. But most of all they tasted like home.

"I think we owe Taylor a thank you of some sort. Maybe we should send her something." John suggested, resting his forehead against Sherlock's.

"Yes. I do think a thank you is in order." Sherlock agreed before grabbing John in for another kiss. 

•••

Taylor heard a knock on the door and walked over to open it. She had been feeling a little better but was still not back to normal quite yet. She cracked the door open and expected to see a person standing there but there was nobody in sight. She opened it wider and went to step outside when her foot kicked something. Looking down she saw a woven basket full of foods that you eat when you feel sick. She picked it up, closed the door, and headed to the kitchen to examine it further. 

She took everything out of the basket and put it where it belonged before going back to the basket. The only thing left was a small white card laying in the bottom of the basket. Taylor picked it up opened it. There was barely anything to read, but what she did read put a smile to her face.

Thank you

-SH & JW

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! I hope that you all enjoyed it and if you did then please comment and let me know! Any suggestions or criticism is appreciated as long as it's constructive. I'm going to be doing the monthly Johnlock writing challenges that H.I.A.T.U.S on Tumblr has! They're super amazing and if you haven't already you should check them out! Anyways, expect monthly Johnlock stuff and other stories that I write separately as well! Love you all!


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